Another Day in Court
by OldSFfan
Summary: House appeals his previous conviction and sentence, after returning with Wilson from their post-finale motorcycle trip. But this time, Cuddy, Wilson, family, and friends are there to support him. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own House or Wilson, or Cuddy, and this fiction is not intended to violate the owners' copyrights. This is a prequel to my stories, "The Logical Thing to Do" and "Visiting Day" and a sequel to "Writers Block" and "At Last." Legally, this storyline is entirely a fantasy. Judge Helen Davis appears in the episode, "Words and Deeds." David Schiff is an original character. Any resemblance to harpomarx's superb "Inquiry" is unintentional and merely due to the canon of the series.

Another Day in Court

Chapter 1

Judge Helen Davis leaned forward over her desk. "Doctor House, I've seen an awful lot of you in the last few years."

House shifted uncomfortably, leaning on his cane. "Yes, your honor," he agreed.

"This appeal will consider your prior conviction as well as pending charges, since they're related. Unlike your last go-round in a courtroom, you have a long list of witnesses willing to testify for you, and a much shorter list of witnesses submitted by the District Attorney." She shook her head. "You're never dull, I'll grant you." She sat back. "Well, the State has presented the reasons to deny your appeal. Now it's your turn. Everyone sit down so we can get this show back on the road."

A general rustling filled the courtroom as House, his attorney, the district attorney, and spectators all took their seats. Cuddy reached forward over the railing and rested her hand for a moment on the back of House's neck. He leaned back into the comfort she offered, then straightened his shoulders.

House had a new attorney for this latest legal adventure, a criminal lawyer named David Schiff. Stacy Warner had recommended him and House and his friends were pleased with his performance so far. Schiff glanced at his notes, then rose and faced the judge. "Your Honor, as I promised in my opening argument, we will begin by demonstrating that Doctor House's medical history is so extreme that he should never have gone to prison at all, thereby negating at least some of the present charges. I call his personal physician, Doctor Robert Chase."

The bailiff left the courtroom through the side door and returned with Chase following in his wake. After being sworn in, Chase seated himself in the straight-backed wooden chair in the witness stand. "Doctor Chase, I understand that Doctor House has given you permission to disclose his medical history?"

"That is correct."

"Very well." Schiff gathered up a banker's box stuffed with files. He made a show of hoisting the full box. "These are copies of Doctor House's personal medical files from Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, along with some files from other facilities where he has been treated, including Princeton General and Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital, and the prison infirmary from when he was incarcerated. Let me go over the major points with you, Doctor Chase."

Schiff pulled out a particularly thick file and handed it to Chase. "Doctor House was disabled by an unusual infarction in his right thigh. Please describe what happened and the consequences for Doctor House's health at the time and since."

Chase opened the file but didn't need to look at it as he cleared his throat and began to speak. "Doctor House suffered a blood clot that began in his right thigh, where it lodged and blocked a vein. In his first visit to an emergency room, the intense pain from dying muscle tissue, essentially the same as experienced during a heart attack but located in the thigh, was misdiagnosed as muscle strain. Heat and rest were prescribed. When Doctor House returned to the emergency room, his complaint was dismissed as drug-seeking behavior. After three days, Doctor House correctly diagnosed the infarction himself. By then, substantial muscle death had occurred. The recommended course of action was amputation. Doctor House demanded, instead, that the clot should be removed and blood flow should be allowed to return to the damaged tissue in an effort to save function in his leg."

"Was Doctor House warned that this was a risky choice, possibly even life-threatening?"

"He was warned and he knew it himself, but it was within several, possible treatment options."

"What happened next, Doctor Chase?"

"Toxic chemicals, resulting from the death of muscle cells, flooded his system. This, along with intense pain, caused his heart to stop. He was revived after over a minute in which he could have been considered clinically dead. At his request he was put into a medically induced coma to wait out the pain in hope that some muscle function would be restored. While he was unconscious, his medical proxy allowed the 'middle option,' surgery to remove the dead muscle. While the procedure probably saved his life, Doctor House awoke disabled and in pain, the condition he has been in, nearly continuously, since that time."

House tried to ignore the recitation of the catastrophic event that had shaped his life, but it was hard to filter out Chase's clear, low voice and the concise description of his medical condition. He felt his face warm and realized he was blushing.

"Doctor Chase, could you describe the effect this event has had on Doctor House since that time?"

"Doctor House has limited mobility and use of his leg due to the amount of muscle removed. He has tried to find relief from pain, that on a good day, probably feels like a muscle cramp. During episodes of breakthrough pain, it is equivalent to the agony of advanced stage cancer, perhaps like a root canal without anesthetic, only covering much of his upper thigh." House watched the judge wince, and behind him, several people audibly caught their breath. He felt his leg twinge as if to confirm Chase's all-too-accurate description.

"What sort of impact has this chronic pain had on Doctor House's life?" the attorney continued.

Chase looked sympathetically at House before he continued. "It is difficult to impossible for Doctor House to pursue physical activity. He was very active before the infarction and has had to give up sports that were very important to him, such as golf and an adult lacrosse league. He walks with a cane and is beginning to suffer from arthritis in his right shoulder as a result, as well as damage to his left hip from carrying most of his weight. Both joints may have to be replaced eventually. Long walks around the hospital are hard on him. He sleeps with difficulty and at times has trouble with his appetite. Besides pain control medication, he must take a blood thinner that requires regular monitoring to prevent any more blood clots, along with other medications to treat related conditions."

"How has Doctor House tried to manage his pain?"

"He used Vicodin, a narcotic mixed with acetaminophen, that is addictive and that, used long-term, poses a threat to his liver and other organs. He prefers it because he finds that it controls the pain well enough while allowing him to keep his mind clear. After several attempts at detoxing, he is Vicodin free and uses prescription-strength ibuprofen. He is seeing a pain management specialist at Princeton General with regular office visits, counseling, and physical therapy. Other types of drug therapy and possibly an electrical system called TENS may be tried. He goes to the emergency room for relief from break-through pain where strong narcotics are administered as necessary. Breakthrough pain may be intense enough to cause a heart attack or stroke, so it is a legitimate emergency. He has had to go to ER twice this month alone, a little more frequently than usual, perhaps due to stress related to these proceedings. Doctor House also has, in the past, used alcohol to excess. He has ceased to do that and conditions of his probation have prohibited any alcoholic drink.

"As his personal physician, what is your impression of Doctor House's condition?"

Chase paused to consider his words for a moment. "When I worked for Doctor House, I knew he was in pain much of the time. Now that I am his personal physician as well as his colleague, I can appreciate how hard he has to struggle to function. He used to be late to work nearly every day, but I didn't' realize that it was because he rarely got a decent night's sleep and how much longer it takes him to conduct simple daily activities like getting ready for work. I also never appreciated just how irritating it was for him to have to deal constantly with his medical condition. He didn't always manage it well. Doctor House is a rather," Chase cleared his throat, "a rather private and strong personality. He dismissed our expressions of concern, sometimes in a nasty way, so that we tended to assume that his Vicodin use was tied to emotional issues rather than trying to manage intense, unending pain, or we just didn't want to set him off. In other words, his friends and associates dismissed his desperate measures to deal with a miserable medical condition simply as addiction, or as an opportunity to be verbally abusive. Or maybe it's just unbearable to think of a friend in that much pain."

The District attorney stood up. "Objection, Your Honor."

"What is the nature of your objection, Mr. Edwards?"

"The witness is reporting how other people felt. It's hearsay."

"Sustained. Doctor Chase, please confine yourself to your own impressions and diagnoses."

House's counsel nodded. "Your honor, while it wasn't phrased that way, I think that's what Doctor Chase just did."

"Very well, Counsel. Just be careful. You may continue."

"Thank you, Your Honor." Schiff turned back to his witness. "Doctor Chase, why did Doctor House select you as his physician, after years with Doctor Wilson?"

"Both Doctor Wilson and Doctor House, as well as Doctor Cuddy, realized that Doctor Wilson's own illness would make it impossible to deal with the complexities of Doctor House's condition. In addition, Doctor Wilson felt that their close friendship precluded the objectivity needed."

"Shouldn't Doctor House and Doctor Wilson have reached that conclusion some time ago?"

"You'll have to ask them."

"Please describe the other measures Doctor House has taken to deal with his pain?"

"Doctor House tried to get into a clinical trial aimed at treating the depression associated with advanced cancer, in hopes that it would help his pain. He was rejected. He tried methadone. It worked, but methadone is difficult to manage and has an impact on respiration. He also felt that it impaired his judgment so he chose to stop using it. After he was shot, he was placed in a ketamine-induced coma at his request and awoke pain free. The relief lasted about three months, then the pain returned. He injected himself with an experimental drug to grow muscle, but the drug induced the growth of benign tumors, necessitating emergency surgery to remove them. He is cooperating closely with his pain management team at this time and is doing fairly well. One of the requirements has been that he should use a wheel chair at least one day each week at the hospital. Another is frequent, random drug testing to make sure that he isn't taking anything or any quantity not prescribed. He receives counseling for, among other issues, pain-related depression related and he takes a prescribed anti-depressant."

"So is it fair to say that Doctor House cannot escape pain that is, at best, constant and inconvenient, and at times agonizing, and that Doctor House has pursued and is pursuing a number of ways to find relief?"

"That would be a fair summary."

"I submit to the court that Doctor House's disability and pain and the measures necessary to combat it, along with the complicated drug regimen Doctor House must follow, make him ineligible for incarceration in a general population. I would suggest that the intake assessment of the New Jersey prison system is badly flawed for having sent Doctor House to a high security prison, where he was monitored and medicated inadequately and forced to submit to the kinds of abuse from other prisoners that the prison system is reluctant to acknowledge. However, I will, at this time, present further evidence that Doctor House should never have been imprisoned to begin with."

The judge leaned forward and said, "Thank you, Mr. Schiff. It is time that the court recess for lunch. We will continue with Doctor Chase's testimony this afternoon. Court will reconvene at one-thirty." She banged her gavel.

The bailiff called, "All rise." Everyone in the room stood while the judge disappeared through the door into her chambers.

Chase walked over to House. "Hard to go over all that, isn't it? I'm sorry."

Blushing again, House said, "I feel like a sideshow freak. Come see the bearded lady… It's okay, Chase. It's what I get for running my car into Cuddy's dining room."

Cuddy had walked around the railing and hooked her arm around House's elbow. "Come on, I'll buy you lunch." She turned around to look for Wilson. "You too, James, this time, we stick together. Robert, I think we're not supposed to be seen talking together yet. Sorry."

"I know. Awkward isn't it?" Chase walked away to look for something to eat.

House said to Cuddy, "Lisa, this afternoon, it'll be hard to listen to. It will bring up stuff that, well, I wish we didn't have to talk about. I'm so sorry."

"Shhhh," she caressed his arm with her fingertips. "This was largely our idea, Wilson's and mine. You would have marched off to prison again without fighting. You've atoned enough. We've all atoned enough"

He started to pull away. "I'm a big boy, Lisa. I have to take responsibility for my own messes."

She wouldn't let go. "But that's just the point. We have so much damage behind us, on all sides. We were so swept up in events that we never stepped back to really look and see what we were doing to each other, what we were doing to you, what you were doing to yourself. Now, you don't have any say over this anymore. It's our turn and we're not trying to fix you. We're trying to fix the whole situation. Since you can't talk us out of it, you might as well have lunch."

House looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"You used to best Lisa in an argument sometimes," Wilson observed, "but she's holding the high card this time. Come on. I've got to gain some weight before the next round of chemo. Are you going to jeopardize my health after everything you went through to get me this far?"

House shrugged. "You're playing dirty, Wilson, and you know it," he said, but he followed Wilson out of the courtroom, Lisa's arm comfortingly snuggled under his.

-tbc-


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

House and Wilson shared a Philadelphia cheese steak and an order of fries at the courthouse cafeteria. The dining room was full, with all the diners in business dress, clearly fresh from court. The three doctors got lucky and found a table when one group left. Wilson's appetite had barely returned from the last round of chemotherapy. "You know, everything still smells funny," he complained. "God, I can't wait to get done with the chemo so fries smell like fries instead of, well, just something burnt. I can smell the fat, but not the… oh, you don't need to know that just before lunch."

House toyed with his food, too, and managed to finish only a bite of the split sandwich. "Pathetic," he murmured, as they dumped the remains of their lunch into the waste bin and stacked the empty tray. Cuddy's salad hadn't fared much better. "You're eating for two, remember," House scolded her.

"We'll catch up at dinner," she assured him. He had no sharp comeback and his silence demonstrated how nervous he was. Once again, Cuddy took his arm.

When they were allowed back into the courtroom, Cuddy and Wilson sat right behind House. Looking around, House noticed that Detective Michael Tritter sat in the back. If he weren't nervous already, that would have been enough to give him a case of the cold shakes. He clasped his hands over his cane and took deep breaths to calm himself.

Everyone rose, the judge entered, and the proceedings began again. "Doctor Chase," House's attorney began, how many times has Doctor House's heart or breathing stopped?"

"His heart has stopped three times, Your Honor."

"What were the circumstances?"

"The first time, as I described this morning, occurred during Doctor House's hospitalization for his infarction. He stopped his own heart intentionally with an electric shock and he was revived by one of his fellows. His heart stopped from an overdose of an Alzheimer's disease drug while trying to recover a memory lost while suffering a skull fracture. Doctors Wilson and Cuddy performed CPR to revive him."

The judge leaned forward. "Counsel, I don't understand. Doctor Chase, what do you mean that he stopped his own heart?"

"He used a pocket knife in an electrical outlet to shock himself. I believe it was an experiment." The judge closed her eyes and leaned back for a minute.

"I'd like to ask Doctor House what he was thinking, but he isn't sworn in yet. Counsel, see that you ask the question when he is on the stand. You may proceed."

"Thank you, Your Honor. I will. Doctor Chase, what were the circumstances when Doctor House stopped breathing?"

"Doctor House was trying a prescribed methadone dose for pain relief. It is a very tricky medication at that strength and he stopped breathing shortly after taking it at work. Fortunately, his team was in the conference room and noticed and we were able to revive him."

"Did he continue to use methadone?"

"He chose to discontinue using it, a shame to my mind, since it left him nearly pain free."

"Please describe the incident in which Doctor House used insulin to stop breathing."

Chase glanced at House, then glanced away. "Shortly before Doctor House entered the detox program at Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital because of hallucinations he attributed to his vicodin use, he used insulin to institute shock from low blood sugar, hoping to rewire his mind."

"Did it work?"

"He claimed that it did, but he had more hallucinations, leading to his self-admission to Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital.

Schiff glanced again at his notes. "Doctor Chase, didn't Doctor House also suffer a grand mal seizure?"

"The seizure occurred about two days after Doctor House's skull fracture and one day after Doctor House's heart stopped after the bus accident. The seizure was the result of the use of electrical deep brain stimulation, trying to diagnose why Doctor Wilson's girlfriend, Doctor Amber Volakis, was dying."

"Isn't deep brain stimulation in the presence of a skull fracture extremely dangerous?

"It's dangerous, period, but Doctor House insisted."

"Why would anyone consent to such a risky procedure?"

"Doctor House suggested it initially and Doctor Wilson asked him to."

Schiff paused to let that sink in. "Was the procedure successful, that is, before Doctor House suffered the seizure?"

"It was. He remembered what had occurred during the bus crash in which he was injured and was able to make an accurate diagnosis."

"Did he save Doctor Volakis?"

"No, she was fatally injured, but at least, Doctor Wilson understood the cause of her death and was able to have a little time with her to say goodbye."

"What was the aftermath for Doctor House?"

"Doctor House was in a coma for a day. He suffered a widened skull fracture and bleeding into the brain, resulting in some aphasia for a day and wasn't fully recovered for several weeks."

"What do you mean, 'fully recovered'?"

"Well, skull fractures take months to heal, and the effects of concussion may take longer than that, so 'fully recovered' probably is a misstatement. So let's say that he appeared to be back to normal after several weeks."

"I see. After Doctor Volakis passed away, was that the end of the incident?"

"Doctor Wilson took a leave of absence to grieve, something that Doctor House perceived as abandonment. Several months later, Doctor House began to hallucinate and Doctor Volakis figured prominently in his hallucinations. He also saw one of our fellows, Doctor Lawrence Kutner, who committed suicide with no warning. Doctor House blamed himself for not seeing any indication of Kutner's intention to kill himself."

"To what did he attribute his hallucinations?"

"As I said before, Doctor House thought it was overuse of Vicodin."

"Objection," the DA interrupted.

"The testimony will provide third party verification of Doctor House's state of mind," Schiff countered.

The judge leaned forward. "Overruled, but be careful, Counsel."

"What did he do about it, Doctor Chase?" Schiff continued.

"He checked himself into Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital to detox."

"Since it was a voluntary commitment he left after the drug was out of his system, correct?"

"No, his psychiatrist determined that he was still too ill to leave, and refused to release him. The medical records transferred from Mayfield will show that the consequences of Doctor House's head injury likely contributed to his illness."

"Didn't Doctor House have the right to leave?"

"Doctor Nolan refused to recommend reinstatement of his medical license if he signed himself out."

"I see." Again the attorney paused to rummage through papers in the file box.

"How long was Doctor House in Mayfield?"

"It was about two months."

"How was he, when he returned to Princeton?"

"He seemed well. He wasn't using Vicodin and seemed to have a certain balance, if not contentment."

"Did he return to work at Princeton Plainsboro?"

"Initially, he did not, claiming that the environment was toxic."

"But he did eventually?"

"Doctor House consulted online. Eventually, he returned to work at the hospital as a consultant until his license was reinstated."

"Why, since he didn't return initially?"

"You'll have to ask him."

Again, Schiff referred to the full file box. He looked up and said, "Doctor House was shot twice, was he not?"

"Yes, in his office."

"Where were his wounds?"

"He was shot in the neck and abdomen."

"Were these wounds life-threatening?"

"Had Doctor House not been in the hospital when he was wounded, it is doubtful that he would have survived."

Judge Davis interrupted. "I think we need to take a break," she said. "Twenty minutes. We'll reconvene at 2:30 sharp."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

House found himself with his friends and supporters milling around in the hallway outside the courtroom. "I need a smoke," he told Wilson.

"You don't smoke."

"I don't usually, but I'm getting in practice for going back to prison. It's the only pleasure we've got in there."

"You won't be going back. Just listening to this, this morning, and now, this afternoon, and I knew it all already, I'm sick about it."

House waved Wilson's concern off, suddenly finding the exposure from the day's proceedings intolerable. "Where can I go to avoid running into those vultures from the press out front?" he asked his attorney.

"There's a closed courtyard in the center of the building. You'll find the smokers lighting up there," Schiff said. House put his head down and limped down the courthouse stairs to the enclosed space. There were several picnic tables and a few shade trees. Smokers, either alone or in groups, were lighting up around the courtyard. He looked back to the door. It would hurt to climb back up.

He leaned against the red-brown stone wall and shook a cigarette out of the pack he had purchased this morning. Cuddy wouldn't like the smell of smoke on his breath, but the ritual of lighting a match and inhaling the smoke steadied him.

"Doctor House, I think you are going to get off again. You're a regular Houdini, aren't you?" The familiar, detested voice caused him to jerk up to look at Detective Tritter's face.

"Let me alone, Tritter.

"No, don't misunderstand me. I hope the judge sends you back to prison, but I admire what you did for Doctor Wilson. It was wrong. It was illegal, but by God, I admire loyalty."

"What do you want?"

"Like I said, I want to see you back in the state penitentiary. You're a dangerous addict and you committed a serious act of domestic violence. But what you did for Doctor Wilson, that was an over-the-top act of friendship." Tritter actually looked uncomfortable. "We have a history. I'm going to keep my eye on you, but I wanted you to know that I respect you for one thing, at least." He walked away.

House looked after Tritter, dumfounded. Wilson jogged down the steps. "Time to go back. He noticed Tritter, who was just returning to the building. "What was that all about?"

"I'm not really sure." House stubbed out the cigarette on the snuffer and dropped the butt in. He moved to the side of the stairs to use the railing to pull himself up the steps. "He said he admired my loyalty, and he thinks I belong in prison."

Wilson cursed under his breath. "Well, I admire your loyalty, too, and as for the rest, don't listen to Tritter. He's not worth it." He climbed the stairs beside House. "By the way, Schiff said that John Henry Giles and Senator Wright are going to be here tomorrow to testify for you."

House was startled. "You mean they didn't just send in a deposition?"

"Nope. Both of them wanted to do it in person. Remember, we decided you've wrecked your street cred."

"But, how will I terrorize my fellows, if I'm ever allowed to have fellows again?" House asked, and they both laughed. It broke the tension as they walked back into the courtroom.

"You will, House, you will. You'll have fellows, and you'll make their lives a living hell."

House smirked in appreciation.


	4. Chapter 4

;lChapter 4

The judge gaveled court back into session. Chase returned to the witness stand.

Schiff wasted little time. "Doctor Chase, what followed the shooting?"

"Doctor House asked to be placed in a ketamine coma, because that therapy sometimes results in a mitigation of chronic pain. It worked, and when Doctor House returned to work after a two-month recuperation, he was pain free. In fact, he had run the eight miles from his home to the hospital."

"You testified earlier that the relief was not permanent?"

"It wasn't. After a few weeks, the pain returned."

"Did Doctor House say anything about it, did he complain, anything?"

"No, he started limping, then he came to work with his cane."

"Did he receive any counseling after what must have been a devastating setback?"

"Not that I know of."

"Did anyone even try to see if he was all right?"

"His fellows did. He brushed us off."

"Did you see any sign of a disturbance afterwards?"

"Not too long afterwards, Doctor House was nearly tried for drug possession and fraudulently obtaining prescription Vicodin."

"Did anyone connect the return of his chronic pain to what appeared to be an attempt to hoard Vicodin?"

"No."

"Why not? Doctor Chase, the medical history you have described must have had a tremendous effect on Doctor House. At any time was he offered counseling for post traumatic stress? Has he shown any sign of psychological disturbance as a result of these events?"

"As I said before, Doctor House is a very strong, some would say overwhelming, personality. He enjoys pranks and his behavior can range from deeply caring to downright nasty. He covers up what is actually a very sensitive nature with a pretty impenetrable front. I would not have been able to detect a psychological disturbance, but no, as far as I know he was never assessed for the psychological impact of these experiences, and besides the breakdown that resulted in his stay in a psychiatric hospital, until recently, he has not received counseling for post traumatic stress disorder. He did undergo counseling for anger management during his incarceration. Presently he is participating in several types of counseling, some mandated as part of his parole."

"Not before?"

"No."

"Didn't Doctor House deliberately overdose on oxycodin on Christmas Eve of that year, while enmeshed in the police investigation of his Vicodin prescriptions?"

"He overdosed, but I don't know if it was deliberate."

"Didn't Doctor Wilson find him lying on the floor of his apartment?"

"I believe he did, yes."

"What did Doctor Wilson do?"

"You'll have to ask him."

"I will, but Doctor Wilson did not have Doctor House admitted to the hospital as a result?"

"No, he didn't."

"Why not? Isn't a psychiatric hold mandated in the face of a suicide attempt?"

"You will have to ask him."

Schiff paused to flip through some papers, allowing Chase's last testimony to settle on the room like a pall. He looked up and continued, "What medical event immediately preceded the incident that led to Doctor House's arrest and incarceration?"

"Doctor House obtained a drug that was supposed to grow new muscle. The drug was in use in an animal trial, only. After a few weeks he learned that the drug had caused fatal tumors in the rats in the trial. He used an MRI to determine that it had caused a number of benign but rapidly growing tumors to develop in his leg. He decided to excise them himself. He realized part way through self surgery in his bathtub that he had made a life-threatening error and phoned Doctor Cuddy for help. She loaded her three-year-old daughter into her car and rescued him."

At this point, the judge interrupted. "He operated on himself?"

"Yes, Your Honor, or at least he tried to."

"I didn't know that was possible." She shook her head. "Please continue, Mr. Schiff."

"Thank you, Your Honor. What happened then?"

"Doctor Cuddy brought him to Princeton General where the operation was completed."

"Was this before or after Doctor Cuddy had ended their relationship?"

"This occurred a few weeks later."

"I see. Please continue."

"Doctor House checked himself out of the hospital AMA."

"What does AMA mean?"

"That means 'against medical advice.'"

"What happened next, Doctor Chase?"

"Doctor House tried to act as if nothing had happened. He gave Doctor Cuddy a box of her belongings that she had left in his apartment. She asked him for a hairbrush that was not in the box. The next day, he and Doctor Wilson went out for a drive and Doctor House planned to stop at Doctor Cuddy's house with the hairbrush. When they drove by, Doctor House asked Doctor Wilson to get out of the car, drove off at a high rate of speed, then turned around and drove into Doctor Cuddy's dining room."

"How long was this after his surgery?"

"Three days."

"Were there any signs that something might be wrong?"

"Doctor House was taking much more Vicodin than usual."

"So he had abandoned his sobriety after being in the psychiatric facility?"

"Yes, when Doctor Cuddy was ill with what initially looked like it might be a kidney cancer, he took one Vicodin, then more after their break-up."

"No one around Doctor House thought that perhaps he might be in a fragile state medically and psychologically?"

"Probably all of us were concerned. I was, but had learned that any expression of concern would ignite a firestorm. I'm sorry to say that I didn't try to intervene. I have been very sorry about that ever since."

"Doctor Chase, this will require your professional, medical opinion. Was Doctor House in his right mind when he drove his car into Doctor Cuddy's home?"

"In my considered opinion, he was not in his right mind since the day that Doctor Cuddy broke off their affair. But the day of the incident, he was too ill to have been out of the hospital. He still had anesthesia in his system. He was taking a great deal of Vicodin for the pain in his leg. His incision was oozing from at least one torn stitch, and I smelled alcohol on his breath the day before."

"Thank you, Doctor Chase."

As his counsel sat down and the District Attorney stood for cross examination, House sat with his eyes closed and his hands clenched on the top of his cane so hard that his knuckles were white.

The DA asked Chase, "First, if Doctor House was so out of control, why didn't you intervene? You could have requested some sort of psychological intervention. What you have just described was an accident waiting to happen, if not a criminal act, since, if nothing else, his driving seems to have been dangerous. Maybe, since you noticed his drug and alcohol abuse, you should have taken his keys and driven him home?"

The cross examination droned on. House tried to listen but realized that he was starting to breathe hard. He let his mind wander rather than pay attention.

Testimony wrapped up with the end of the day in court. House reached down to rub the ankle monitor he was forced to wear as a condition of his bail. He needed to stretch his damaged leg before it gave him real trouble. He stood, awkward after sitting too long. Wilson stood next to him. "It's my turn, tomorrow," he told his friend.

"You have your attorney. Please be careful. I don't want you going to prison with me."

"I'm getting a lot of sympathy - cancer chic, what with the bald head, no eyebrows, weight loss. I don't think it will be a problem. The court granted me immunity so I could testify. My lawyer thinks I'm pretty much bullet proof."

"Just see that you stay that way. I wouldn't have allowed any of this if I weren't assured you would be all right."

Cuddy had been talking to Schiff. "Ready to go home?" she asked. She took House's arm again. He loved it, how she seemed to crave his touch, and calling his old place 'home.' Wilson had paid to preserve House's apartment and its contents during their road trip. Cuddy was living in it, since her house was leased, but for the past month, House had stayed with Cuddy. Living with Cuddy was allowed by agreement with the Princeton Police Department, although the department had been reluctant, since it regarded Cuddy as a victim of domestic violence at House's hands.

"We've got to get home. Marina has to leave at six."

"Yeah." He turned to Wilson. "Are you seeing Fiona tonight?"

"No, she's got a grant proposal to write."

"Will you be okay?"

"Yeah. Go home, House. This is harder on you." He clapped House gently on the elbow.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to all the guest reviewers whom I can't acknowledge directly. For those of you confused about where this story sits in my stories' timeline, I've tried to leave tracks in the opening explanations at the beginning of each story. The whole plot line begins after the end of the series with "Letters to Lisa," continues with the first chapter of "Surviving Season Eight," continues with "To Err, To Forgive" and "At Last," and "Writers Block." The second chapter of "Surviving Season Eight" is contemporaneous with this story. And as I said at the beginning of the first chapter of this fiction, I don't own these characters. I'm just making sure they don't get bored since the series is over.

* * *

Chapter 5

House didn't know how he managed to come back to court again the next morning. Being the focus of all this psychological speculation and analysis, having his medical history on display, it was excruciating. He suspected that a rape victim must feel much the same. The clicking cameras from the press on the sidewalk and their shoving and crowding, demanding a statement from him, made him feel even more exposed. At least he'd been dropped off at the handicapped entrance and didn't have to pull himself up the courthouse stairs in front of the reporters. He had cringed when he saw his face on the front page of the newspaper in the vending machines that morning.

Wilson's testimony was scheduled after that of House's pain management specialist, the counselor from his anger management group, Doctor Nolan, his long-time psychiatrist, and the couples counseling psychologist who worked with House and Cuddy.

John Henry Giles and Senator Wright testified for House just before lunch. They joined him, Cuddy, Wilson, and John Henry's wife, Cora, for lunch in the courthouse cafeteria. Their support surprised and warmed him. He was bemused that as many attorneys and clerks and staffers asked for his autograph as for the two celebrities with him.

Shortly before House had to return to the courtroom, John Henry tapped his soda can for everyone's attention. He stood up and took Cora's hand. He looked sternly at House. "Before I say anything more, you didn't play that horn I gave you, did you?"

House grinned. "Nope. I still have it, though."

"Good. Well, when you saved my life, nine years ago, I realized that I'd been pushing away the person who meant the most to me, and Cora and I have been married for seven years. But you inspired us again, when we heard you were alive, not only alive, but that you and Doctor Cuddy were in a family way. Cora and I have just passed two months. We're going to have a baby."

Cuddy jumped to her feet and embraced Cora, then John Henry. "Congratulations. I know how excited and happy being pregnant has made me. We wish you all the best."

House, too, lurched to his feet. "Who knew it was contagious," he said, putting out his hand to John Henry. "Our kids can get together for a play date." He slapped his forehead. "I'm turning into a sap," he muttered. Wilson snickered.


	6. Chapter 6

A shout out to Dark Eyed Seer, who reminded me of the depth of House's character in 2 wonderful stories, one left unfinished in 2008, "A Conspiracy of Kindness" and "Veritas."

* * *

Chapter 6

After the lunch break, Doctor Jessica Adams described the incident in the prison infirmary that had led to an extension of House's prison sentence. The judge questioned Doctor Adams sharply and made notes on her pad. Wilson hoped that Doctor Sykes of the New Jersey prison system might be in for some trouble, and wished again, fruitlessly, that he had known at the time why House's sentence was extended. Wilson finally took the stand in the afternoon.

House felt his breath catch. His hands, clutching the top of his cane, were white-knuckled. He stared at Wilson as his friend settled himself in the witness chair. Wilson seemed well, despite his hairless head and too-thin form beneath his expensive suit. House was prepared to stand up and put a stop to the proceedings if either the defense attorney or prosecutor were too hard on him.

Schiff approached Wilson differently than anyone questioned before, with a gently supportive and friendly demeanor. "Doctor Wilson, why did you change your mind and seek treatment for your cancer? Did Doctor House go back on his word and badger you about it?"

"No, he did not. He was understanding, he was great company, funny, playful. For the first two weeks together, I had the time of my life. But even on my self-centered high, thinking that since I had cancer, I had the right to enjoy it while it lasted, eventually, my conscience woke up. I'm ashamed that it took that long. Here's a man I love like a brother, I don't know how to put it more strongly, who has thrown away everything, everything, for me. I was even the recipient of his apartment and its contents in his will.

"I was afraid that after I was gone, he would end up alone, penniless, and in prison. I was even more afraid that he'd kill himself. It was a classic, middle-of-the-night round of soul searching. How could I just take his enormous sacrifice, as if it were my right, without giving a thought for House? And then I knew that I had to at least try to treat my cancer, to save myself, and to save him. I guess we had to save each other."

"Doctor Wilson," he continued, "Because of the immunity granted to you by the court, you have testified as to the nature of Doctor House's use of a false identity in order to flee from a prison sentence."

"Yes, I have."

"I'd like to turn the focus away from that for a moment. How would you describe Doctor House?"

"In what way"

"You and Doctor Cuddy are at the heart of this case. Doctor House has been described as brilliant and difficult. Please try to make us understand the character of a man who gave up his name, livelihood, and freedom to be with you in what you both thought were your final months. He is said to be intensely abrasive. Is he?"

"He can be."

"Before he drove his car into Doctor Cuddy's home, did you regard Doctor House as a violent man?"

"Never. House can be verbally abusive, but when violence has arisen in his practice, he has been outspoken in his opposition to it."

"But patients have struck him and at least once, he retaliated."

"It wasn't retaliation. He goaded a patient's relative into striking him so he could demonstrate that the man needed treatment as much as House's original patient. He saved both lives."

"Do you have any knowledge of the bar fights testified to by Doctor Nolan?"

"I didn't at first, but I discussed it with House and then asked around. They weren't really fights."

"I don't understand."

"House didn't fight. He got beat up. From our conversation, I think it was deliberate. It happened only a couple times. Doctor Nolan knows more about that than I do."

"Very well. Has Doctor House lied to you?"

"Sometimes. Never on any major issue. He deflects if a subject gets too personal, but if I were to summarize House's approach to the truth, he lies if he thinks it's necessary to save a patient, he loves to mess with people, including me, but in general and on any important issue, House tells the truth. He tells it even when it's inconvenient. He tells it as if it were a necessity, or even a, well, House is going to hate this, but almost a spiritual thing. May I make an analogy?"

"Certainly, Doctor Wilson."

"In an art gallery I saw some Japanese prints. Several consisted of an elderly, irascible Zen Buddhist master. He was brandishing a large staff and chasing a group of his less-than-diligent disciples. House is like that, a master of his craft, a teacher, a teller of the truth. He is absolutely loyal to his loved ones and to his fellows. I think he is, to use an old-fashioned term, I think he is the most noble man I know or have ever met. He's not comfortable or warm and fuzzy, but I think noble isn't too strong a word. He'll never let me live this down, and well, that maybe was a bad choice of words for a man fighting cancer, but since I'm quoting and paraphrasing like mad, here's another one, from _Paradise Lost_. Milton's Satan observes how awful goodness is. That's House. He can be difficult to truly nasty, but he does what he thinks is right, when it counts, he tells the truth, and in so doing, he saves lives. He has saved many lives."

House stared at Wilson, as he felt the flush heat his face. Wilson returned his gaze defiantly.

"You met and helped to treat Doctor Sebastien Charles, who won the Nobel Peace Prize."

"A very great man."

"Yet you say that Doctor House is the most noble man you have ever known."

Wilson answered simply, "Yes."

Schiff allowed that bombshell to echo through the courtroom. Then he said softly, "That will be all, Doctor Wilson."


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks to guest reviewers and people who have added this story to their alerts list. I try to acknowledge reviews and favorites, but I'm grateful to everyone kind enough to respond to this story.

* * *

Chapter 7

Cuddy's turn came the next morning. Schiff treated her with kid gloves, because House threatened to halt the proceedings if he did not. The questioning for the defense was of necessity, very brief. "Doctor Cuddy," he resumed, after a short recess. "I understand that congratulations are in order. You and Doctor House are expecting a child."

"Yes, we are."

"Doctor Cuddy, I gather that your family, friends, and associates do not understand why you are living with, and pregnant by a man who committed an act of domestic violence against you, who nearly destroyed your house and could have killed you, your daughter, your sister and brother-in-law, and a guest."

"Well, some of them understand it. My mother does. When I knew what Doctor House had done for Doctor Wilson, when I reexamined everything that led up to the incident and realized my complicity, my fear and anger was replaced with self-loathing. I have been seeing a therapist, and Doctor House and I have been in couples therapy. At first he rejected my insistence on my role in creating this mess, but therapy has helped us to understand how we came to that, and how we must work to move on. But when I thought House was dead, and when I knew he was alive, I recalled that I have loved Gregory House most of my adult life, and I recognized that it made more sense to start from that wonderful place and make it work. Doctor Wilson's illness reminded me of the premature death of my own father and how short life and love can be. I had to talk Doctor House into trying again for a relationship. He was afraid that he would hurt me. He was afraid I would hurt him. I love him. My daughter adores him. We are a family in every important way."

"Doctor Cuddy, you have returned to Princeton and have accepted a position as Director of Medicine at Princeton General rather than Princeton Plainsboro. Yet Doctor House is a consultant at Princeton Plainsboro. Why aren't you working together?"

"Doctor Foreman is Dean of Medicine at Princeton Plainsboro now. Regardless of the reasons I left, no dean should overstay their term at a teaching hospital. I had accomplished a great deal. Realistically, it was time to move on, but I loved the job and did not want to. As for Doctor House and I working at the same hospital, we and our therapists agree that my supervising him, or the reverse for that matter, is intolerable and toxic to our relationship. I think we could work together as equals, but not in a position of unequal power. We will not make that mistake again."

"Very well. I have no more questions, Doctor Cuddy."

The prosecutor stood up to begin cross-examination.


	8. Chapter 8

Readers, thank you for sticking with me through this hearing. Still to come: House's testimony, and the judge's decision.

* * *

Chapter 8

Court was adjourned for the day. All rose. House felt as if he had run a marathon and suspected that his friends felt the same. The door to the judge's chambers opened again and she emerged without her robes. "Doctor House, may I have a word? This has nothing to do with your case." House was startled. "It has nothing to do with your case today. I was just curious about something. We can speak here or in my chambers." He nodded once. She joined him at the table. Tall and slender in his dark blue suit, leaning on his cane, House seemed to resemble a great, dark bird. She had to look up at him. "Please, sit down for a moment." She waited while House settled himself again, cane clasped between his hands. "When you were in my courtroom for your drug hearing several years ago, you left without permission, during testimony. It was very odd."

"You sentenced me to a night in jail for contempt."

"That I did. I told you to turn off your phone. You were to have arranged for another doctor to cover your caseload."

"Your honor, when I take on a patient, typically, they have been referred to me after trying to get help from several other physicians. My practice is a last resort. If I and my team can't figure out a diagnosis, the patient may die."

"So what happens when you take a vacation?"

"I don't, usually. I had nearly a year of use it or lose it annual leave built up when I went to prison."

"That might contribute to your colorful history, Doctor House," the judge muttered. "The day of the hearing, when you walked out, I was too annoyed with you to ask what was going on, other than that I assumed you had gone back to the hospital."

"I realized what was killing my patient."

"You looked like you were in a trance. Do you drive when you're like that?"

"I got there without running into anything."

The judge shook her head. "At the beginning of the proceedings two days ago, Doctor Cuddy said something about your intuitive leaps. That you organize all your information, but sometimes you solve a difficult case with a moment of insight, she called it an epiphany. Is that what I saw?"

House shifted uncomfortably, but met her eyes. "Yes."

"Why in my courtroom?"

"It was something you said. Or actually, it was your tone of voice. Everything fit."

Judge Davis shook her head. "This is Princeton. Einstein used to live here. There is no shortage of geniuses here, but they are rarely observed in action. Doctor House, I think I saw something unique that day."

House felt his face flush. "What I do depends on science. It's just that the human mind doesn't have a mathematical storage system, so I need to find a way to prompt myself. Besides educating younger physicians, that's one of the reasons I have a team of fellows. And sometimes the leap of insight comes from one of them. They have almost all been excellent doctors. Some are better than that."

"I think I understand. Don't do it again during court proceedings. And it won't have any bearing on your case today, but I wanted to tell you thank you for letting me see it." She stood up. "Now go home with your fiancé. I think she's more worried than you are."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

House settled himself into the hard wooden chair, cane between his knees. He was the last defense witness, set to testify on his own behalf. He had been drilled by Schiff, so he thought he could contain his guilt for what he had done to Cuddy, his lack of guilt or shame for his escape with Wilson, and his worry about being incarcerated and kept away from his family.

He had stared at himself in the mirror that morning, before Cuddy fussed with his tie. The gray suit and blue striped tie brought out the gray in his hair. He was struck by how much he had aged since running away with Wilson. When he was out with his children, he would look like their grandfather, if he avoided a lengthy prison sentence and had time with to be with his children and Cuddy. He had shaved and was not sure if his bare face made him look younger or older. It did make him look more vulnerable.

Schiff moved into House's line of sight and brought him out of his reverie.

The audience in the courtroom stirred in anticipation. This was the testimony all had waited for. House clasped the head of his cane. He glanced up to Cuddy and she nodded encouragement. Wilson stared at him intently. Finally, he looked to Schiff as he had been instructed.

"Doctor House," the defense attorney began. "The crux of the matter before us today is your presence in the burning warehouse with your patient, now known to be deceased. What were you doing there?"

House steadied himself. They had rehearsed his testimony. He was no stranger to public speaking, but the stakes were very high. "My patient was a heroin addict. In part, I had gone to check on him. I was concerned when I realized that the address he had given was an abandoned building."

"In part?"

House winced. His attorney had insisted that he had to be straightforward about that night. He looked down, unwilling to watch Cuddy while he admitted, "I was facing a personal crisis. I thought I might persuade my patient to share some of his stash."

"Heroin?" Schiff asked, voice sympathetic.

"Yes."

"Please describe this crisis, Doctor House."

House took a deep breath. Wilson's treatment and positive prognosis helped to alleviate some of the frantic worry he felt, but it didn't erase the memory. "Due to a prank gone wrong, I was required to report to prison the next day, to serve the entire remaining six months of my sentence. James Wilson's untreated cancer was likely to kill him in five months." House worried the top of his cane. His voice dropped so it was barely audible beyond the first row, the agony in it palpable. "He was, is my best friend. He would have been gone before I got out." House felt as out of breath as if he had been running. His pulse was pounding in his ears.

Schiff's calm voice brought him back to the hearing. "Doctor House, was the warehouse burning when you got there?"

"It was not."

"Did you find your patient?"

"Yes."

"Was he alive at the time?"

"No, he was not."

"How did you verify that?"

"There was no pulse or respiration. Pupils were fixed. The body was cold, and rigor mortis was beginning to set in."

"Did you attempt to revive him?"

"I tried chest compressions, standard CPR, but as I said, the body was cold and rigor was setting in. The condition of the body suggested that he had been dead for at least three hours. In addition, a syringe was still stuck in his arm below a tourniquet."

"Were you able to determine the contents of the syringe?"

"A bag of white powder lay on the floor next to the body. I tasted it and determined that it was probably heroin."

"So you went to report the death?"

"No, I pulled the syringe out of his arm, emptied it, and prepared another dose." The audible gasp around the courtroom did not surprise House. His quiet, steady report of that evening appalled him, too. "I made a tourniquet with my belt and injected myself." This time, Wilson's gasp startled him. He looked up and met Wilson's eyes.

"A used needle from a known addict, Doctor House? That seems very reckless."

"There was a cigarette lighter on the floor by the body. I lit it and ran the needle through it, but yes, it was reckless."

"Why did you do something so reckless, so out of character, Doctor House?"

House sat back and looked away from everyone he loved in the courtroom, who sat staring at him with horror. "Wilson was going to die. I couldn't be with him. If the drug was tainted, if it killed me, well, that didn't seem all that bad just then. In retrospect, I can't believe I did it."

"The Fire Department testimony indicated that the fire did not begin on the second floor. Could the lighter have started the fire?"

"No. It was a standard, metal lighter. The flame was snuffed out when I flipped the lid closed. I heard some voices downstairs and toward the back of the building. There were used syringes and drug apparatus scattered all over. I thought it likely that other addicts used the place. I was concerned that they would come and take the heroin away from me. I was rushing to get that fix, that dose, before they found me. As I said, I wasn't doing well, certainly not thinking straight. "

"So you didn't plan to kill yourself?"

"No. I just didn't care if I lived." House looked up and realized Cuddy was weeping. Ignoring the attorney and court procedure, he said to her, "Lisa, I'm sorry."

Schiff let that reverberate around the courtroom for a moment. He cleared his throat. "Doctor House, then what did you do?"

"I must have passed out. I found myself lying on the floor by my patient. There was smoke, making it hard to breathe. I could see fire flickering from somewhere on the first floor. The floor I was lying on was warm."

"So you looked for a way to escape the burning building?"

House locked eyes with Cuddy again, then Wilson. He felt as if he were exposed naked in front of everyone. Still almost whispering, he admitted, "No. I thought if I stayed there, I wouldn't have to go to prison, and I wouldn't have to be there when Wilson died."

"Yet, we are here with you today, Doctor House. How did that happen?"

House clutched the head of his cane, eyes locked on the floor by his shoes. "Doctor House," Schiff called him again. "Obviously, this is a difficult thing to remember and talk about today. Are you able to continue?"

Again, House looked at Cuddy. Her eyes were glistening, but she smiled encouragement. "Let's get it over with," he growled.

"Did you decide to try to escape the fire, Doctor House?"

"Not at first. I was still high, I think. Anyway, I had a series of hallucinations, people I cared about, some living, some dead, who told me to get up off the floor, to leave, to try to live, or to just let it go and find some peace. I had to decide. Some of the choice was made for me when the floor beneath me collapsed and I landed on the concrete on the first floor." He closed his eyes, remembering the fire all around, the flames getting closer. With eyes still closed, he said, "There was a window, I think at the front of the building. It looked like I might be able to get out there. I had gotten banged up when I fell, but I climbed to my feet and staggered toward it. My cane was left behind. When I got to the window, I saw Wilson, and I tried to find something to break the glass. Then a burning beam fell. I jumped out of the way just in time. I figured I'd waited too long, but for a moment I saw what looked like an open door in the back. I got down on my hands and knees, something very difficult for me, and crawled toward the door, hoping the air would be breathable close to the floor. And at the end I was almost on my belly, dragging myself, but I made it out to the alley behind the building."

The courtroom was dead quiet. All eyes were on him.

Schiff broke the spell. "So you went to assure your friend that you had survived the fire?"

House sat back. This was the next tricky part of his story. What he had done was enough to ensure a prison sentence. Well, he couldn't dodge it now. "I realized that I could avoid prison long enough to be with Wilson in his final months. So I hitched a ride with a trucker back to the hospital. He asked me what I had been up to. I was covered with soot and reeked of smoke, so I told him I was homeless and had gotten a little too close to a campfire. Anyhow, I substituted my medical records for my patient's, and then I found a place to hide for a few days."

"Didn't you think how cruel it was to mislead the people who cared about you?"

"Wilson was dying. I couldn't see any other choice."

"What about giving up your home, your career, your identity?"

House straightened in the chair. "Wilson is worth it." He looked at Wilson defiantly. Wilson, too, had been weeping silently, sitting in his chair. They shared a long look, until House lowered his head and broke it.

"A magnificent sacrifice, Doctor House," Schiff declared, and let the whole, ghastly few minutes sink in. Finally, he cleared his throat again. House realized that the worst was over.

"Just a few more questions, Doctor House. Why did you come back? You knew the legal consequences of your actions would be very serious."

"Wilson seemed to be heading toward remission. Being dead no longer seemed like a solution. I had to face up to what I had done. I wanted my life back, as much as I could still have of it."

"Very well. I was asked to ask you about when you stopped your heart by sticking a knife in an electrical outlet. Why did you do it?"

"It was an experiment."

"An experiment? Were you trying to kill yourself?"

"No. I paged one of my fellows before I did it, so if all went according to plan, I'd be revived."

"Wasn't that awfully risky."

"I suppose it was."

"Doctor House, why did you do it?"

House sighed. He would have preferred to avoid this discussion. "There was a patient in the clinic, an accident victim, who had had a near death experience for ninety-seven seconds. He said he had a vision of the afterlife. So he stuck his knife in an outlet to try to duplicate it. I was curious, so I used his knife and tried it, myself."

"Did you see what your patient saw?"

House swallowed uncomfortably. "No. And when I came to, I was told that the patient had died."

That bombshell settled for a moment. Schiff looked away. Well, the judge had asked for an answer to that question. Getting back to the main thread of House's testimony, Schiff asked, "Doctor House, Doctor Chase has testified that to his knowledge you have never been treated for post traumatic stress. Is this true?"

"My current psychotherapy includes dealing with post traumatic stress."

"I'm relieved to hear it. Doctor House, I understand that you were reluctant to initiate this appeal. What changed your mind?"

"Wilson accepted treatment. Lisa Cuddy was willing to include me in her life. I had to try to get my life back. And now, Lisa and I are expecting a child, a baby brother or sister to her daughter Rachel. We're a family. I want to be there for them."

"Thank you, Doctor House. That's all the questions I have for you."

Cross-examination was brutal, as expected. House knew that taking the stand was a calculated risk. But Schiff and he had agreed that by the nature of his appeal, he really had no choice. By the time opposing counsel was finished, House felt that he had run a marathon, bad leg and cane and all.

Nolan had prescribed a tranquilizer in case of an especially grueling day in court. House took it when he and Cuddy got back to his apartment. He was asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. Closing arguments were scheduled for the next morning. The ordeal of the appeal was almost over.


	10. Chapter 10

And so we come to an end. I hope that justice tempered with mercy has been served, and that Cuddy, Wilson, and of course, House, will be able to move past the awful events of seasons 7 and 8. Thank you to all my readers and reviewers. I am so grateful for your support.

* * *

Chapter 10

The complicated decision was handed down two weeks later. House thought he had overcome the stark terror he felt before returning to hear the verdict of the court. He was prepared to be marched off to prison immediately, so he carried with him only his identification. His watch and other personal effects had been left in his apartment. But he held Cuddy's hand with his free hand as if it were a lifeline as they walked into the courtroom. Wilson walked on his right side and if his right hand were not clutching his cane, he would have gripped Wilson's arm too.

House stood to hear the judge's decision. She rustled her papers as she looked down. Finally she looked up to fix House in her gaze. "Doctor House," she began, "I understand that your appeal was instigated not by you, originally, but by Doctors Wilson and Cuddy. It's clear that they love you very much; as it is clear that you love them dearly. It's also clear that they have been responsible for many of your difficulties, usually by thinking they were doing the right thing for you. To start with, I'm going to recommend that they should both trust your judgment more than they have. You are an enormous asset to our community and state. I'd like to keep that asset. Trying to find a just solution that conforms to the laws of the state of New Jersey and is at least within shouting distance of sentencing guidelines has not been easy.

"So let's get to it. The extension of your sentence for actions that saved the life of a fellow prisoner is declared null and void. The prison system reacted reflexively and vindictively. Some discipline would have been warranted, but not the severity of it. However, for faking your death, obtaining a fraudulent identity, disguising the identity of your deceased patient, and flight from parole, you will be remanded to a minimum security treatment facility for one year, with all but three months of that sentence satisfied by time served. One year of probation will follow. You are ordered to continue all of your current counseling and your pain management regimen, and appropriate release on those days will be accommodated. The taxpayers of New Jersey will not benefit if you miss out on what is clearly effective regimen for an especially valuable health care worker. I will give you up to a week to settle your affairs before you report to the processing facility to begin your sentence. Details will be worked out between you, your attorney, and the court. You have already paid for the restoration of Doctor Cuddy's home, so that portion of your fine has been satisfied. I would have also ordered community service, but much of your life consists of service. No one wins if you are picking up trash at the side of a road and your disability precludes it. However, you must pay court costs and a fine of fifty thousand dollars to the state of New Jersey. It is so ordered." She banged her gavel.

Cuddy, Wilson, and his mother and stepfather had come to court to hear the judge's decision. They clustered around House to congratulate him. House found that the stress of the appeal and then two weeks of waiting for the decision had enervated him. He bent over Cuddy and rested his face on her shoulder, wrapped his arms around her, and just held on. Cuddy ran her hand soothingly up and down his back. "See," she whispered. "It's going to be fine. Just a few months and it will all be over. You and me, Rachel, and the baby, we can be a family at last." He nodded without moving away from her. He realized his face was wet.

As much as he dreaded prison, the sooner he began his sentence, the sooner the three months would be over. House arranged to report in four days, after paying his fine. After years of saving, his bank account was not depleted by the fine, so there would be plenty left to share the down payment on their new home. With a little luck, he should get out in time to get married before the birth of his child. House tried to allow relief to replace his anxiety. He would serve his time in a minimum security, treatment facility, then he would be released and he and Cuddy and Rachel could commence their life together. Wilson was on the mend. All in all, it was a far, far better outcome than he had expected and feared.

The day he reported to the city jail to be sent to prison seemed more like a celebration than the start of a prison sentence. Cuddy, Wilson, Chase, Foreman, and House's mother and her husband, came to see him off. He felt a little like he was going on vacation, or maybe to summer camp. It would be a working vacation. Schiff would bring his manuscript to him so he could make strides in revising his textbook, as well as catching up on reading his journals. He already was told that he would work in the treatment facility library, so he would have access to some medical websites. His loved ones promised frequent visits and Cuddy would be searching for a house for their family. She planned to send pictures of any homes that she considered to his e-mail. Nonetheless, he hated being separated from Cuddy and Rachel and Wilson.

It was a late fall morning, when House and his extended family gathered at the jail. Rachel was home with her nanny, despite her protests. House and Cuddy agreed that he would talk to Rachel on the phone, but in order to limit the visual impact of his incarceration, she would not be allowed to visit. There was a cold breeze. House raised the collar of his coat against it. It was so different from his last prison term. Then he marched off alone to his fate. This time, he shook hands with Chase and Foreman. Thirteen, too, came to wish him well. He endured embraces from Wilson, his stepfather, and his mother. Finally he wrapped his long arms around Cuddy. They kissed as if they could put off the inevitable. Schiff interrupted them. "Doctor House," he said gently. "It's time."

Cuddy and Wilson were weeping as House turned to face the entrance to the jail. He wiped his own tears. Then with Schiff beside him, he limped up the ramp and through the door. It should have clanged shut, but the electronic door slid open silently, then slid shut behind him.


End file.
